An Addiction for Danger
by MagicalMish
Summary: Hannibal comes after Clarice once again and an unexpected surprise errupts. 2 new Chapters up!
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: Sadly, these characters do not belong to me although I wish they do. They belong to the talented Mr. Harris and the scenes are from my own messed up mind! Enjoy… P.S. I'm in the process of completing the next chapters. Ta-ta.

AquaPrincess88

Ex-Special Agent Clarice Starling. He would have like the ring to that. She could picture his expression and hear the accented words in his steely voice.* Afraid you'll upset your Daddy? The dead night watchman?* She shuddered. That voice would haunt her until the day she died. Clarice stood up from her soon-to-be vacant desk. Her various items of stationary and pictures filled up a Xerographic box. A hazy gray folder was thrown carelessly on top. At a closer look, we can see Hannibal Lecter's file. It is not as filled as it once was, but it has all of the necessities. She picked up the box and walked out past the curtain. She looked back one last time at the light box that held Dr. Lecter's hard expression in a photograph. She could hear him. * Hello Clarice* 

She turned around out of habit preparing to see his maroon eyes meeting hers. Instead, she saw her old friend Paul Krendler. She sighed and pushed away. " Where ya going Starling? Being suspended doesn't mean you're off the force." He had it rub it in. "Suspended." He loved having power over Starling. Hell, it was all he had over her ever since she told him to go home to his wife.

"Well, Mr. Krendler, if you keep suspending me, and might I remind you this is the second time this year, I might come to the conclusion that I am off. Mr. Krendler, I am not to be toyed with. I have the opportunity to resign or to come back when you feel that you can reinstate me. What am I supposed to do in the meantime? You of all people know that I have no connection to Hannibal Lecter. Give it up Paul. I know when I am not wanted."

She shook her head and realized she was still staring at the photo. A daydream. Paul was dead. He suffered horribly and lets leave it at that. Poor Paul. No, not poor Paul. Paul was a bastard. She pitied the people who knew Paul. Poor people. Clarice juggled the box with one hand and turned off the light with the other. She wouldn't come back. The guy who took Paul's place was worse.

Thomas March felt he could crack the Lecter case on his own, him being such a big shot detective and all. He suspended her for the knowledge she had that could hurt the bureau. " We'll take you back," he said. " When we're sure its okay and you're not in danger. Probably when we're close to catching Lecter" She chuckled.

He didn't know who she was. He didn't know what her credentials were. He didn't know her relationship with Lecter. She wanted him to be caught, but he was civil to her and she respected that. She would have to leave the force. She could open her own business. Maybe become an investigator. She could look for Lecter on the side.

Clarice passed her old office in the Behavioral Science unit. She look in the well-lit but baron room. Jack Crawford had long since retired and she heard a rumor somewhere that he had passed away. She never kept up on the bureau news. She wanted to talk to him right now. She wanted to tell him what an asshole he had been when he secluded her at the morgue. She could remember the conversation. " It matters Mr. Crawford. They look at that. It matters." He took her away. He wouldn't let her in on the conversation. He briefed her instead of the guys who found the poor girl. Little did he know that it would set a precedent for the rest of Clarice's life. She would never be taken seriously. *Jackie-Boy*

She opened the door. No one bothered to lock it. Just old newspaper clippings. The headlines read various things. "BUFFALO BILL STRIKES AGAIN" was in the Times. "CLARICE STARLING CATCHES BILL WITH HELP FROM AN UNLIKELY SOURCE," read the Post. She took the paper clippings off the wall and put them in the box. She left the room and walked towards the exit.

Clarice punched in her security code to say goodnight to Ardelia Mapp. She still liked to keep in touch with her ever since Starling had gotten her own house. She opened the door to Criminology. Ardelia wasn't there. It looked like she had gone home for the day. Clarice took a piece of her note paper. It read, " From the Desk of Ardelia Mapp." She took a pen, crossed it out and changed it to," From the Desk of Clarice Starling." She wrote a small note and left. She shut the door and waited for it to click shut. Clarice left the Quantico building for what she thought would be the last time.

She arrived home a little after nine. She hauled her box from the car and into the house. She struggled with the screen door. When it finally opened, Clarice dropped the box and kicked it across the floor. It slammed into the wall. She heard something break and a few paint chips fell into the box. She looked away and poured herself a glass of wine. She sat milking it as the hours went by. When just a little was left, she imitated Lecter. She picked the wine glass up to her nose and swished it until the most wonderful aroma reached her nostrils. She put the glass down on the coffee table and went to get the her phone.

An automated voice came over the receiver. "Welcome to Travelocity. If you know your party's extension please dial it at this time." Starling didn't know. She held on and waited. " …..For tickets and destinations please press five." She pressed and listened. One….Three….Five. "You have booked tickets for Paris, France on May 3rd. Please enter your address, name and phone number. Your tickets should arrive in about three weeks. Thank You." She hung up and laid down on her couch, ready for a deep sleep.


	2. A Reason to Go

Clarice's ticket came three weeks later. She had a flight going to Paris, France. Clarice had taken French when she was in school and knew the language fluently. She decided to put it to use and besides, she needed a vacation. The way she picked her spot was less than sporadic. First in Clarice's search for Lecter, was to figure out where he had now been hiding. She needed to pick a tasteful place that he would agree with. After puzzling, she narrowed it down to three locations. Paris, Rome and Greece. After some more puzzling, she could not picture Lecter wandering around Rome or Greece. He had to be in Paris. Little did she know, she was mistaken

Starling packed for her vacation. She took all the necessities. She had clothes for two weeks, the Gucci shoes that Lecter had bought for her and makeup. She often debated whether or not she should take the black dress that he had given her. The one with the low-neckline. She decided against it and put it back into her closet, covering it with a dust jacket. She treasured that dress, as much as she may or may not have treasured the giver. 

She zipped her suitcase and in the front pouch, put the .45 caliber that she normally wore around her ankle. In addition, she put a small pocketknife that was enshrouded in numerous layers of bubble-wrap. She sprayed them with hairspray. It was an old trick that she had learned. She never knew when those objects might come in handy.

Clarice's flight was in a week. She needed to finalize plans with Ardelia to watch her house for her. The standard picking up of papers, watching the house and watering the plants. Ardelia would gladly do it. The two were inseparable, but Clarice had to move out of the duplex for one reason. She was messy and Ardelia was neat. Opposites attract.

Clarice left her tickets and reservations in the dining room. It was the first room on the right and quite beautiful. It had two tall, elegant, brass candles and a festive runner. She tucked the tickets under the first candle. Clarice grabbed her pocketbook and keys and walked out of the door. She walked rather briskly to her Mustang, started it and drove away.

A dark figure lurked in a small car across the street from Clarice's house. It rose out and crossed the street onto her property. It had it's hat tilted to the side. The figure took what appeared to be a key out of a coat pocket. Clarice's house door opened and the figure walked inside. It walked into Clarice's dining room and tapped four old-looking fingers on the oak table.

The figure lifted one of the brass candles and removed Clarice's ticket. The man set it down on the table and started rummaging through drawers. In the first drawer, was a clear view of a picture of Clarice and Ardelia. " Hello Clarice." Hannibal Lecter grabbed the picture and tucked it into a pocket. He grabbed a box of matches and lit the candles. Taking the picture out of his pocket, he wrote over Ardelia's face, "Well, hello Clarice. Sadly, I still find no fun in retirement. I see that you have left the FBI. I have ways of getting this news, and no, do not try to track any possible sources. You will find none. I see that my picture still stands on the 10 most wanted list and I wonder if you could do me the courtesy of removing it. It is not the most fetching image of me. Give up this tasteless search, Clarice. You'll find me in good time, either by your wits or my old age catching up to me. Or maybe, you will find me due to my wishes. Ta-Ta. Hannibal Lecter, M.D." He placed the picture between the lit candles.

Lecter picked up Clarice's ticket once again and read it over. Paris, May 3rd, TWA flight 620. "Goody-Goody." He put the ticket back and left, locking the door. He got into his car, dialed his phone and booked a ticket identical to Clarice's. He took a first class seat. He drove away, watching the house as he left.


	3. A Visit from an Old Friend

Clarice was glad to get home. The traffic took forever, even though the duplex was only about 10 miles away. She stupidly took the parkway around rush hour. It was at the least, a 15-minute wait for exit. She got out, locked the Mustang and dragged her feet to the door. She unlocked the door, but it wouldn't open. "That's odd," she said to herself. " I don't remember locking the top lock." She shrugged, put the key in and unlocked the top lock. The door opened as she turned the knob.

She stopped abruptly. There was a strange smell in the air. She stepped in two more feet and the strong smell of smoke filled the air. She looked to the right and in the dining room, were two brass candles burning diligently. " This looks all to familiar." She walked into the dining room and put her keys down. The picture. She picked it up and read it." Lecter. Damn."

Clarice picked up the phone and dialed Pearsall's office. After some heavy discussion with Ardelia, she realized that she wanted and needed the FBI. It was who she was. She was a warrior. 

The answering machine picked up. " Pearsall here. Leave a message." It beeped and Clarice exploded. " It's Starling. Lecter was here. He left a note. Lit some candles and I guarantee that he went through my things. I know that he won't do anything, but I'm just letting you know. Call me." It beeped again. She hung up and sat for a minute, staring at the table. " Shit. The ticket. He had to have seen that. They were in plain sight. He wouldn't overlook that.

Clarice blew out the candles. She felt the base. They had been burning for a while. There was no way she could trace him. Better luck next time. She walked over to her closet where she had finally decided to rest her FBI box. She opened the door and unfolded the flaps of the box. She took out John Brigham's badge and set it on the floor. She took out the Lecter file. It was time to reopen it. She picked up the badge and with the file in hand, walked towards the table. She set them down and sat down herself. She watched the picture hoping that he would appear. Finally, out of frustration, she hid the picture and opened the file.

Her mind rang out; a chilling horrific scream. It was soundless to everyone else, but Clarice heard it all to vividly. It was the sound of the past. Jame Gumb, Jack Crawford, Catherine Martin, Dr. Lecter. All awoken by Lecter's headshot glaring at her. She remembered his comments. She remembered how the papers read of Chilton's disappearance. She remembered how she knew that Lecter killed him. She shut the file and brought it into the bedroom with her. She packed it in her suitcase. Reading material. She would go on the trip anyway. She needed the vacation.

Clarice lay restless in her bed for sometime. She thought. Lecter, FBI. Lecter, FBI. Her head was spinning. She fell asleep, the fan, circling above her.


	4. Airport Surprise

Hi! Hope you like this so far! Let me know if I should continue!

By the way, I changed my name due to a computer glitch. I assure you that this is my story. And as usual, the disclaimer still applies.

It was still early when Clarice woke. No matter, her flight was in a few hours anyway. She could get ready and drown her sorrows in the airport bar. She had the perfect excuse. She was being stalked. Yeah, right. "I deserve," she thought. "I became too involved. I should have let it go. No, I shouldn't have."

Her cab came just as she had finished drying her hair. The cabby helped to put her things in the trunk but Clarice did most of the work. She ran back into the house and grabbed her fanciest coat, her wallet, keys and John Brigham's badge. She put the badge on her belt. She shut the door and locked it. Double bolted. Clarice got into the cab and just as just as the sun started to rise, drove away. 

At the airport, Clarice learned that her flight was delayed. She began to wait in the waiting room, but it was not exciting. Instead, she followed her previous plans and moved to the bar. She ordered a whiskey and sat watching the clock tick by. No one asked her what was wrong. She thought, " Why should they? I'm just another lonely face in the crowd with problems. Although, these are no ordinary problems. No one else deals with a crazy psychiatrist who eats his patients. No, no one else has my problems." She ordered another drink and moved to the far left side of the bar where she could she the flight schedules.

An old familiar face watched from the opposite side of the bar. He had a glass of Chardonnay in his hand and was enjoying it. He would have preferred a Chianti, but such fine Italian wine is rare and certainly not in grungy airport bars. " Clarice, why do you do these things to yourself? When will you advance yourself from the roller pigeon that you are? Why Clarice? Are the lambs the cause? Do they still wake you? Do you scram with them? Can I help?" He finished his drink and arose from his chair. He walked towards Clarice, his tailcoat swishing back and forth. As he neared, he sniffed the air. It awoke buried, but not dormant memories. The dungeon he knew not so long ago. " You use Evian skin cream and sometimes you wear L'air de Temps. But not today.

He moved closer and closer, nearing the unaware Clarice. At just a fingertip's touch away, he struck. His extended hand ran through her flawless long red hair. He withdrew and walked briskly away. Clarice turned in the opposite direction. "Dr. Lecter? Where are you?" there was no sign of Lecter. Just a young waiter hustling for a tip. She turned around. A dark figure was leaving, but it was impossible to make out who it was in the poorly lit room. " Damn, I should have checked the corner. I should know that by now." 

She contemplated for a minute why she didn't look in the obvious direction. Maybe she knew it was Lecter. Maybe she wanted him to get away. Maybe she loved their Cat-and-Mouse game.


	5. A Fun New Ride

Hi again. Same disclaimer, more story!

~Crazy Dreamer

Clarice could not tell how long she had been in the bar. She was intoxicated and finishing her eighth drink. It was late, she knew that much.

***********************************************************

The airline associate picked up the microphone. "Paris, Flight 27 to Paris is now boarding. Rows 1 to 5, First Class." Hannibal Lecter moved toward the counter with his ticket. "Row 2, First Class. Right down this gate sir." "Thank you." He entered the plane and took his seat. The adjacent seat appeared to be vacant. Better for him.

Clarice still sat at the bar. Drink number 10 down the hatch. " All rows now boarding. All rows for Flight 27 to Paris are now boarding." Clarice left a twenty dollar bill on the bar for the bartender. He had to continuously serve her drinks and maybe listen to her every once in a while. She had no idea what had gone on in the time she was there. She could have given out her address for all she knew.

Clarice swaggered out of the bar and up to the counter. She handed the receptionist her ticket and proceeded to board the plane. The world around her looked blurry. She shook it off and continued.

Upon walking on the plane, she was greeted by the stewardess and pilot. She went past the first class seats. Past Hannibal Lecter. She was too drunk to notice. " Well, hello Clarice. You're looking well." She didn't hear it. He chuckled. This could be fun.

Clarice took her seat in the middle of the plane. She called over the stewardess by incessantly pushing the button above her seat. She came and Clarice asked for a pillow and some asprin. She fell asleep, hoping to dismiss the oncoming hangover.


	6. Plane Trip

The usual Disclaimer applies. Hope you enjoy!

As much as she tried, Clarice couldn't sleep. The plane was too noisy. To the left of her, was a screaming baby. It showed no signs of stopping. She had a window seat and was inevitably trapped. The noise engulfed her. She suddenly felt extremely claustrophobic and felt the strange compulsion to smack her head against the window until she was knocked unconscious. Using her better judgment, she decided against it Clarice took out a book.

The in-flight movie was playing and had been playing for some time. By the sequence of events, she could tell that the movie was, "Assassins." She had never seen it before but had heard could things. Clarice was only able to watch ten minutes of it before it ended. She watched the credits pass by the screen and finally, it terminated. Now she was stuck on a plane for at least for hours. 

Restless from the trip, Clarice got up from her seat. She excused herself into the aisle and walked to the back of the plane where the bathrooms were located. Clarice waited in the long line and finally entered the bathroom.

She took a long, hard look in the mirror. She saw her life passing her by. She saw her sad childhood. She saw her mother cleaning hotel rooms and the mixture of blood and water draining fro m her father's hat. She saw her FBI career going down the drain. She saw Dr. Hannibal Lecter. Hannibal…

Finally, Clarice exited the bathroom and walked past the line of eager people waiting for the use of the bathroom. There were at least five people on the line. She could see two women, a small child and a mysterious man with a tilted hat. She took no notice.

Clarice clutched her head. At last, she felt the effects of her bar frenzy and stumbled back to her seat. She didn't comprehend what was around her. Her mind was fighting her. She rang for the stewardess. " I need aspirin, please." She closed her eyes. She didn't even see Dr. Hannibal Lecter waiting on the line, watching her.


	7. The Letter

Same disclaimer

~Crazy Dreamer

Clarice slept soundly in her chair. The woman with the baby had moved to a different seat after the stewardess addressed the noise. Now, Clarice was alone in the aisle, with two open seats. She had her head pressed against the window. The sun shone in and caressed her face, keeping her warm.

From a dark seat in the corner, maroon eyes gazed at Clarice. He watched her. He longed to move over to the adjacent seat and sit with her. And maybe, if he was lucky, she would wake up and let him stay.

He moved swiftly across the aisles. Being polite as usual, he slid through, pardoning himself. He arrived at Clarice's row. A look of horror appeared on her face. Dreaming, of course. In his hand, was a piece of beautiful parchment and an old, but expensive, calligraphy pen. As he sat, he pulled down the tray table and placed the parchment on it. He placed his left hand on the top of the paper and smoothed it out with his right hand. He began to write.

__

Dear Clarice,

It's dreadfully boring watching you sleep in these most uncomfortable airplane seats. Although I must admit some of the expressions you produce are rather amusing. As you have probably already guessed (unless we are getting slow on the uptake) I am here, with you, at this very moment. No, I am not thinking of things I could do to get inside your head. I am just enjoying your company. Do not try to trace me because as we both know, you are no longer a threat. You are millions of miles form home and even father away from getting a favor from the FBI. Don't worry, we will meet again. Be on the lookout. We could have some fun.

Your old pal,

Hannibal Lecter, M.D.

He folded the parchment precisely and wrote her name neatly on the front. He put up his tray table and took down hers. He put the note inside and closed it halfway, so that the littlest motion could unlock it. Lecter returned to his seat and let Clarice sleep.

The plane came to a halt a little afterwards. The plane filed out, but Clarice still lay there, asleep. The stewardess walked over to her. She tapped her on the shoulder as not to startle her. Clarice started with a jolt. "Ma'am, the plane has landed. We need you to evacuate now." Clarice, still sleepy, arose from her chair. She turned around to get her bag and knocked the tray table. It unlocked and scratched her leg. Clarice turned back to the tray table. The note stared at her, neatly folded. She dropped her bag, picked up the note and sat down. She began reading and no sooner did that familiar look of shock and fear spread across her face. "Dr. Lecter."


End file.
